


Pernilla

by orphan_account



Series: Sportacus and Robbie Discover the Secrets of the Universe [8]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Depression, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, just..., something to explain why it's taking me so long to finish these prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9341258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He had to get it out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not a prompt, but an explanation as to why I haven't been writing as much.

There was a burn, deep inside of Robbie, that he had for as long as he could remember. That wasn’t saying much, considering his memory was like swiss cheese on a hot stove top; full of holes and blurred at the edges.

For the most part, he could ignore the burn. He had been doing so for such a long time, it was almost like second nature to him. Push everything down, ignore every little ache, every little itch he felt licking under his skin. As long as he kept going, working on inventions and disguises and plotting to get rid of Sportacus, it couldn’t catch up to him. Just as long as he kept his mind busy…

Robbie splashed cold water on his face as he stood in front of his sink. He needed to get rid of Sportacus, and there would be no way his plan for today would ever fail. But he still couldn’t let himself seem unpresentable to everyone, no matter how much he proclaimed he didn’t care. He teased and styled his hair, and tugged on his clothing like a puppet, no matter how much his limbs protested.

He just wanted to sleep, curl up under some covers and never move again. But if he lied still, then his mind and body would catch up with him, and every single little thing he had carefully bottled and wrapped up would come spilling out. And he didn’t trust himself to not do something if that ever happened. Robbie had gone such a long time without doing anything too.

As he marched on to his display tubes of costumes, he was hit, like someone had lugged him in the stomach with a baseball bat. He stood perfectly still as the feeling washed over him. There was never a name he could give to the feeling, but it was one he was all too familiar with. It was like an old friend, finally pushing past the barriers that Robbie had oh so carefully erected to keep it back. It, of course, has broken through before, but it always wrecked him when it did because he did so well at stuffing it down, stuffing everything down, that he didn’t feel much of anything.

Robbie took in a deep breath, steeling himself. All he had to do was take in a couple deep breaths, and continue on his way. He couldn’t let something like his feelings get in the way of destro- getting rid of Sportaflop. He’s a villain for Christ’s sake! He should have more control than this!

And yet he found himself running for his tiny kitchen, ripping out a drawer and dumping out all of its contents onto the counter. He frantically sloughed through the silverware, metallic clinks echoing through his bunker as spoons and forks were tossed to the ground. It was at the bottom of the pile that Robbie found what he wanted, the sterling silvering gleaming in the dim lights of his lair.

He completely ignored the way his haggard image reflected in the smooth surface as he hastily rolled up his sleeve and shoved the blade against his skin. The ice cold metal bit into his skin as he drew a long red line across his arm. Red dribbled down his arms, and pooled onto the counter. When he saw it, his knees almost buckled. The familiar sight made him loose everything he was holding back.

There was too much, the pressure and ache of the burn inside of him was building up and he had to get it out! He had to get it out. Robbie stood there with the knife pressed up against his skin and he bit straight through his lip, red trickling down his skin.

He had to get it out he had to get it out he h ad to get it out he had to get it out he hda to get it out he ha d to get it out he had to g et it out he had to get it out h e had to get it out he had t o get it ou t he ad to gt it out h e had t get it out he ha aad t o get i out he hd to ge t it out he a d to it uo he ha ot ge I t ou t h e ha d t o ge t it ou t-

“Robbie!” A voice shouted. He knew it, he knew that voice. He knew the figure that gracefully tumbled out of the hatch, and stood in front of him with wide eyes, and he knew the pink gremlin standing in front of him with wide eyes and mouth formed into an ‘o’.

He tumbled forward and knocked the knife from Robbie’s hand and pulled him away from the scene. He effortlessly lifted him up and placed him in his fuzzy orange chair.

Robbie curled his fingers into the orange fuzz as he stared past the blue and pink clad figures in front of him. He stared way past, through them and the walls of his bunker and the dirt and everything that stood between him and the endless void he craved to join.

“Robbie, you really must be more careful. You could have seriously hurt yourself! I’ll go get the first aid kit, Stephanie, see if you can stop the bleeding.” And just like that he was gone like dust in the wind, down the endless winding hallways.

The pink gremlin grabbed a rag from his side table and dabbed at the wound. Blood always made her feel ill, but with the way that Robbie was easily moved around like a doll, she sucked it up for him. “Robbie Rotten? Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer. He never did or could after something like this. Maybe he was ashamed of being caught, or his weakness. Not that any of them would understand anyways. Or maybe it was the old friend clamping down on his vocal cords-

“I know this was on purpose Robbie.”

His head snapped to her, although she wasn’t looking up, but aimlessly dabbing away at the bleeding wound on his arm. There was a familiar exhaustion in her eyes that he would see every morning when he styled his hair, and practiced his face as to not let anyone else in on his secret.

“It hurts Robbie, I know it does. It’s like you’re empty, and there’s nothing you can do to fill up that emptiness in you. And it hurts, so you hurt yourself thinking it will feel better. And maybe it does for you, but Sportacus doesn’t understand this stuff. He doesn’t know why you’re hurting, or why you taking it out on yourself, or that you’re even doing this on purpose in the first place. But he really cares about you, and would be devastated to learn that you feel like this.” She fiddled with something on her wrist, and slid it off and put it on Robbie’s good wrist.

“Why should I care what that blue buffoon thinks of me?” he snarled at her.

“Because he cares about you, and would think it’s his fault. He’d think he’s failing his job as a hero, and I know you pretend you don’t care, but I know you care for him too.” She stared down at the rag that was quickly turning a bright red. Some of it was starting to rub off on Stephanie’s hands.

Robbie didn’t say anything in response, but instead stared down at the concrete floor, focusing on the clattering sounds coming from deep within his bunker as Sportacus rummaged around.

“…When my parents first found out about me hurting myself, they pinned the blame on themselves. Maybe they weren’t good parents, maybe they didn’t show me enough love. They worried themselves sick about how to help me feel better. They took me to a hospital, and after the doctors talked with me about my life, they told them it was just because of something wrong with my brain that was making me feel like that. I was in the hospital for a long time after that, and they gave me lots of different medicines, some that worked, and some not so much. But in the end, I felt a lot better. One of the things they taught me is if I ever got the urge to hurt myself, to snap the rubber band against my wrist instead.”

Robbie glanced down, and sure enough there were several bright pink rubber bands disguised as bracelets dangling from her wrist and faint scars along her arms.

And also one on his.

“I know our situations aren’t the same, but I hope it helps you in the meantime before you get help.”

He was quiet for a long time after that, but before Sportacus barreled through the lair with kit in hand, he managed to utter a “thank you” to her.


End file.
